Say Anything
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'No matter what she chooses, she'll lose either way, but she still chooses him.' With a new serial killer on the loose, the team must race against the clock to bring him down. But circumstances of the case threaten to tear Castle and Beckett apart. A co-authored story by bravevulnerability and Oliviet.
1. Chapter 1

Castle watches from his place at her desk as her conversation with Gates shifts into a steely argument. The captain left the blinds open after calling Beckett in a few minutes ago and he winces as he witnesses Beckett on the receiving end of a verbal blow, as he hears the muffled snap of a reprimand and sees his partner's face remain hardened but blank even as her eyes flash with hurt, anger, maybe even offense. He can't be sure from the sidelines.

It's the case, he knows that, they all do, but it doesn't make the task of watching more weight added to Kate's shoulders any easier.

Their killer has struck again, taking the life of another girl that is far too close to Alexis's age for his liking, slitting throats of young women and leaving their bodies to be found in tourist attractions across the city. They were called to the crime scene for the third victim yesterday morning and at this rate, the killer is set to strike again sometime in the next 24 hours.

Kate is running herself ragged, already hunched over her desk or stationed in front of the murder board each morning when he arrives, the stain of purple beneath her eyes growing darker with each passing day. She won't rest until they have the son of a bitch, until she finds justice for these three girls' families, but she's practically dead on her feet as it is.

He doesn't know how much more she can take.

Castle sits up in his seat beside her desk when he notices Gates dismiss her, curses himself for not using the time to refill the empty mug near her computer with a fresh serving of coffee, or maybe grab her lunch instead. He doesn't think he's seen her eat anything more than handful of almonds from the bowl on her desk today.

She doesn't meet his eye as she pulls out her chair, falling into her seat with a strained exhale, her jaw tight with frustration even while her eyes blaze with grim determination.

"You okay?"

"Fine," she mutters, jerking her desk drawer open, searching around for a pen that he relinquishes. Beckett huffs and accepts the writing tool, but only begins fidgeting with the object, a nervous habit he's positive she adopted from him over the years.

"What'd Gates say?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she sighs, propping her chin atop her knuckles. "I just want to find this guy."

"We will," Castle assures her without missing a beat. "He may have made it this far, but he's going to slip up, they always do, and we'll catch him when he does."

"How many more girls have to die before that happens?" Beckett grits out, finally lifting her eyes to meet his, letting him see the anguish swirling there, the desperation hiding in the murky shades of brown her irises have become. "Because I don't know how many more parents I can face, Castle. I don't know how to keep telling them-"

She bites her lip hard enough to bleach the tender flesh, tries to swallow back the unsteady exhale that's already slipped past her trembling lips, and Castle scoots in closer, finds her hand atop the scattered files cluttering her usually neat desk.

"We'll figure this out, Kate."

It's not enough, not something he can truly promise her despite how much he wishes he could, but it has her palm flipping for him, her fingers embracing the twine of his.

She sighs, but rests her gaze on their tangled hands, offering a gentle quirk of her lips before giving his fingers a squeeze and letting go.

"Thank you," she murmurs, fiddling again with the pen still in her other hand. "For always having something reassuring to say."

Pride and relief weave their way through the concern for her, the pressure from the case, and he grins in return, tries not to gaze back at her like the lovestruck idiot he actually is. But before he can formulate a response, the phone on her desk is ringing and dread consumes his insides once again.

"Beckett," she answers, clipped and professional, just like always, but her spine stiffens a second later, the tension striking like lightning. "What kind of game?"

Castle rises to his feet at that, but she's already snapping her fingers at Ryan and Esposito, gaining the boys' attention and making a signal with her hand for Ryan, requesting a trace.

"You've been keeping tabs on the investigation then?" she continues, her voice cool, neutral, but her knuckles are white around the phone, her knee bouncing beneath the desk, and he wishes she would put the call on speaker.

"Just a few more seconds," he hears Ryan mumbling, but his eyes are on her, trying to read between the strict lines of her face.

"How about you tell me why you're doing this first?" Beckett goads, her voice falling into that softer, more understanding tone she sometimes uses on suspects when she wants to coax them into confession. Not many can resist professing their sins to Kate Beckett, but by the frown that etches deeper into the tight line of her mouth, he has a feeling the person on the other line isn't ready to serve his penance.

"Got it."

"Just in time," Beckett mutters, slamming the phone back in its cradle. She's up a second later, snatching her coat and ready to stride for the elevator.

"Pinpointed the signal to Washington Square Park," Ryan informs them while he and Esposito both rise, snagging their own coats in preparation.

Castle holds his tongue while Beckett gives her commands, biding his time for when they reach the elevator.

"He said we would recognize him, be able to pick him out of a crowd, and that we should get there before he does something regrettable. So keep your eyes peeled as soon as you're on the scene and radio in when you're close."

"Got it, boss," Esposito nods, but Beckett's already striding for the elevator, Castle on her heels.

The doors slide closed and Castle remains silent for a moment, allows her the routine sweep of the badge on her hip and the gun at her side she often performs multiple times on the way to a takedown.

"What did he say to you? I heard you mention a game?"

Kate shakes her head, drops it back against the wall of the elevator as they descend. "He just asked if we were interested in playing a game, taking a gamble on his next victim's life. Spoke in riddles for most of it."

Cool beads of sweat form on the back of his neck, a familiar curl of terror coiling in his gut, because this feels too much like a case they worked nearly two years ago, when a serial killer became obsessed with her, blew up her apartment and almost took her life. Twice.

"It's not going to be like it was with Dunn, Castle," she murmurs, reading his mind all too easily and reaching out to find his hand, surprising him with the embrace of her fingers. Twice in one hour he's held her hand in his own, felt her slender fingers twined with his, and if they weren't on their way to confront a budding serial killer, he would consider this his lucky day. "It's just like you said, he'll slip up and maybe he just did by alerting us to his current whereabouts."

She squeezes his hand before the doors can shift open, before she releases it completely, and he exits the elevator at her side, matching her determined pace as they make their way out of the Twelfth and into her squad car.

He wants to agree, to believe in his own words from earlier, but this doesn't feel like an impending victory. This feels more like walking into a trap.

* * *

Washington Square Park is peaceful, swollen with people and the sounds of nature combined with the blare of the surrounding city. Winter is fading, slowly succumbing to the welcoming warmth of the approaching spring season, and Kate shivers at the gust of wind that ruffles her hair, slithers around her exposed neck, mingling with the anticipation bubbling beneath the surface of her skin.

Ryan is in communication with park officials, gaining access to the security cameras while Esposito works to round up a handful of plain clothes officers to block as many exits as possible, but for now, she and Castle are the only two on the scene.

"You said he claimed to have been watching us?" Castle murmurs, practically glued to her side as they come to a stop in the center of the park, right in front of the famous fountain.

"Can't tell how true it is," she mutters, scanning the area but seeing nothing out of the ordinary, beginning to worry that this is nothing more than a ruse constructed by some disturbed follower of the case or their killer's way of successfully throwing them off his trail.

"Loosen up, Beckett," Castle hums in her ear. "If he doesn't know what we look like, you'll give us away with the murderous look on your face."

Her lips quirk and he nods his approval, offering her a thumbs up, but she can tell he's nervous, feels the exact moment his anxiety spikes.

"Wait, I think I see him."

Kate follows Castle's gaze with a bored expression, sticking to their plan of remaining inconspicuous for as long as possible, and notices the man in all black, standing out amongst the sea of civilians in colorful winter wear. But it isn't the clothing that confirms Castle's suspicions, it's the tip of the blade peeking out from the sleeve of the man's sweatshirt, it's the turn of his head towards them, and the knowing look he gives her.

Kate lifts her fingers to the device hidden within her ear. "We've been made."

The man takes off and Castle bolts after him.

"Castle!" she shouts, already lurching forward to stop him, but he yells back to her over his shoulder.

"You go that way, we'll circle around, cut him off."

Her instincts flare with warning even as Castle's already dashing away in the opposite direction, reminder that she should not be allowing him such responsibility, especially when he isn't even armed, but they have no other choice. Esposito and Ryan are still five minutes away and she can't let this guy get away, can't let him take another life.

Beckett sprints through the crowd, keeping her eyes trained on the shadow of a figure weaving through the mass of people that fail to part quick enough for her. She's still too far away when she catches sight of Castle, racing towards the man with the determination of a bull, and their suspect must notice him too, must realize what sort of threat her partner could pose.

And that's when she sees the blade being put away in favor of a gun.

"Castle!" Her voice goes unheard, helpless to warn him, useless to stop the man who pulls the trigger.

A single shot fills the air, followed by the panicked screams of those around them, but she can't hear, can't see anything but Castle as he crumples to the ground, clutching his side with a hand that quickly becomes stained in blood.

The shooter is getting away, taking the opportunity to sprint towards the exit, and she needs to follow, she could still catch him, but her heart is like lead in her chest, her entire body paralyzed for a second too long, torn between the job and the man bleeding out on concrete, the man who loves her.

No matter what she chooses, she'll lose either way, but she still chooses him.


	2. Chapter 2

Beckett wills her legs to unfreeze from the spot where they're rooted to the ground. She's by Castle's side in seconds, her hands trying to brush his out of the way to see how bad his wound is. The sound of the gunshot is still resonating in her ears, the panic still swelling in her chest as she feels the skin around her scar from her own shooting pull too tight. She tells herself the tightness is all in her head, remnants of her PTSD.

She has to force herself to breathe.

"Castle," she chokes out his name. "Just stay with me, okay? You're gonna be okay. Help is coming."

But shit, is it? Has anyone called 911? Was she supposed to do that? Her head is a puddle of conflicted emotions right now and she feels like she's almost forgotten how to function. She was supposed to protect him. It's her job to have his back and protect him.

"Beckett, I'm fine," Castle growls through the pain. "Just a flesh wound. Go after our suspect."

She doesn't want to leave him. Wouldn't forgive herself if something happened to him while she was away from his side. It could be more than a flesh wound. He might not even know. She doesn't –

But then she feels her heart sink into her stomach as she hears a cacophony of more screams coming from one of the paths that branch off from the fountain. From the direction that their killer went.

"No," Beckett breathes, getting to her feet. "No, no, no, no."

"Go, Beckett," Castle urges again. "I'll be fine."

She looks back down at him before sprinting off in the direction of the screams. A circle of people have formed and she pushes through them to get to the center. She finds herself praying that this isn't what she fears it is. Perhaps a dog attacked a squirrel or something. But that isn't what this is. What she finds causes her to squeeze her eyes shut and brace herself forward on her knees. She feels like she's going to be sick.

Another young girl, bleeding out onto the pavement with her throat cut, lies before her.

Beckett straightens back up, her hands shaking, as she brings them up to cover her mouth.

The killer was right here. She had him. _She had him._

But she made the wrong choice. She chose Castle instead. She chose Castle and now another girl is dead. Because of her. Castle will even be okay, he'll survive, but this girl - another set of parents she has to break the news to, another reprimand from Gates.

She made the wrong choice.

"Hey, what happened?" she faintly hears Esposito's voice call out as his footsteps get closer to her.

"It was all a game," she whispers, unable to take her eyes off of the victim.

"What game?"

"He _knew,_ Espo. It was a set up. He knew that I would choose Castle over him. Knew that he could make another kill and get away with it."

"We'll catch the guy, Beckett," he says gently. "He won't get away with this."

"Javi, I had him in my sight and I let him get away." She hasn't felt this desperate, this lost, since that sniper case they had earlier in the year. "I should've -"

"You chose your partner," he cuts her off. "I would have done the same thing."

"Yeah, but your partner is armed. He can protect himself."

She looks back over in Castle's direction. Ryan is with him, talking on the phone, probably to the paramedics. She's glad someone finally managed to do that.

"You're not seriously blaming Castle for this?" Esposito asks, quietly.

Kate shakes her head. "No, I'm blaming myself."

* * *

She's still a nervous wreck by the time they get Castle into an examine room at the hospital to be checked out. The girl had an ID on her, so Ryan and Esposito went off to inform her parents. She couldn't handle another one. Couldn't look those people in the eye and tell them that their child is dead all because she, as a cop, made the wrong decision.

Kate's nearly chewed her lower lip raw by the time someone comes and gets her in the lobby; Castle finally has been given the okay for visitors. Martha and Alexis are on their way, and she wants to be in and out before they get here, not ready to face their possibly accusatory looks. Alexis has already been weary of her since her own shooting, since her father decided it was a good idea to try and push her out of the way, risking injuring himself in the process. She really can't handle any more guilt right now.

"Hey," Kate says softly, leaning against the doorway to his room with her arms crossed over her chest.

"What, no flowers?" he teases when he sees her. "Guess I have to have more than a flesh wound to start my own flower shop, huh?"

"So that's all it is then? You'll be okay?" she asks, ignoring his attempt at playfulness.

 _I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound._

"Yeah, it just hurts like hell. Got my very own battle scar though. It's pretty cool."

She feels all of the air leave her lungs, rage bubbling back in its place. Now that she's been assured that he's okay, her concern is dissipating into anger. He doesn't seem to understand how serious this is.

"Castle, another innocent girl is dead. And you're over here thinking about how cool it was that you got shot? Do you have any idea what you put me through watching you go down like that?"

His gaze shifts, hardens. "Actually I do."

 _Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me, please. Stay with me, okay? Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate._

She bristles. They are not getting into that again right now. This isn't about her shooting, it's about his.

"Why do you do that?" she asks, pushing herself off of the doorframe. "Why do you think you're capable of chasing after suspects on your own? Just because I don't force you to stay in the car anymore - Castle, you're not a cop."

"I had a plan," he tries to explain himself. "I was going to chase him right to you, where you'd be waiting with your gun drawn. You were supposed to cut him off."

She scrubs a hand through her hair. "You didn't even give me a chance to think, Castle. You should have waited for my signal, not made up your own."

"He was getting away, Beckett."

That statement makes her even angrier. Because the guy _did_ get away and his spur of the moment pursuit did nothing to help the situation.

"Yeah, yes he was. And you did a really great job at stopping him and that's why another girl is dead. You got yourself shot for nothing."

He physically recoils at her dig and she feels like maybe that was taking it too far. She blames herself for this, not him. But the words have already left her mouth and there is no taking them back. The fire between them is already burning and instead of trying to put it out, she's only throwing more fuel onto the flame.

"I get that you're upset right now, but I really think you're taking your anger out on the wrong person," Castle answers her slowly.

She is. She knows she is. She's angry and frustrated and Castle was simply doing what he always does, trying to help. And usually it works out, usually she or someone else is saved in the process. But it backfired this time. And now he's sitting in the hospital with a flesh wound, there's yet another victim on Lanie's table, and their serial killer is still out there ready to strike again. So she yells at him because she needs to let it out and there is no one else around.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she sighs, scraping a still shaking hand through her hair, watching the hard defense in his eyes begin to dissolve, forgiveness already blooming in its place, and her stomach clenches.

He forgives her so easily.

"It'll be okay," he promises her, yet again. A promise that is currently unfathomable. Another girl is dead, they're no closer to catching the killer than when they started, and Castle is in the hospital with a gunshot wound. They are so far from _okay._ "We'll get him, Kate. This was just a minor-"

"No," Beckett rasps, has to clear her throat when the words catch and crumble in her esophagus. "There is no _we_ anymore _,_ not on this case."

And just like that, the hurt is back on his face, spreading across the pale skin and the weary lines around his eyes and mouth, mixing with the indignation that forms with the frown creasing his lips.

"We're partners," he reminds her, firm and already prepared to argue. He's invested in this, in the case and the victims, in her and their partnership, but this has gone too far. Not to mention he has a _bullet wound._ She risked his life, and in turn, caused another to be lost in favor of tending to her own mistake.

No more of that.

"Kate, look at me-"

"Mr. Castle," a cheery, young nurse pokes her head in the room, flicks her gaze between the two of them, and offers an apologetic smile for the interruption. "Your mother and daughter are in the waiting room."

The dull sea of panic lapping at the pit of her stomach surges into a tsunami, consuming her abdomen in waves, rising to constrict around her lungs, to drown her.

"Thank you," Castle answers the nurse distractedly, but his eyes are on her, seeing through her blank expression and tense posture, sensing her need to flee from the room without looking back.

"Beckett," he calls, attempting to sit up and reach out for her, hissing when the movement causes him pain. All she does is cause him pain- "Kate, don't-"

"Your family's here and I shouldn't - I have to get back to the precinct, the case," she manages, hesitating for a split second, gaze lingering on the man in the hospital bed with pleading blue eyes. The picture of him wounded in practically every way possible has acid spilling through her system. She wants to be more, not the reason he gets shot. "I'll call you," she murmurs, slipping out of the room before he can protest further, clutching at her chest, at the throbbing reminder between her breasts, and gasping in relief when an exit sign comes into view before she can experience a fatal run in with Alexis or Martha.

Her fingers shake harshly as she closes them around the door handle, pushes it open and steps out into the frigid, midday air. She already recognizes the impending signs of a panic attack and leans against the hard brick of the building at her back, inhales deep and exhales slow until her heart gentles from its rough stampede.

Her eyes burn and Kate tilts her head back against the hospital wall, stares into the pale blue of the sky and waits for the threat of tears to recede. She can't cry over him, not here, not now. She _shouldn't_ be crying over him, he's fine, but the image of his body on the ground, the blood seeping past the cover of his hand and spilling onto the sidewalk continues to play on a loop in her mind, adding a haunting continuation where he doesn't assure her of his survival and instead fades away right in front of her.

Just like she had in his arms on the cemetery grass only a few short months ago.

Beckett wraps her arms around her ribs, holding herself together until her eyes are dry and the memories have finally ceased in their slideshow and all that is left is the determination to solve this case, to catch the son of a bitch who killed those innocent girls and sent a bullet shredding through her partner's side.


	3. Chapter 3

Gates is already waiting for her by her desk by the time she makes it back to the precinct.

She doesn't need this right now. She's not prepared to have her ass handed to her by her captain when there is so much else going on.

"Detective Beckett, a word please."

It isn't a question. Beckett bites back a groan as she follows her captain into her office.

She closes the office door behind her as she enters, as instructed.

"Would you care to explain to me why we have yet another dead college girl on our hands?" Gates asks, her tone dripping with ice, as she laces her fingers together on her desk. "Because the Brass is really breathing down my neck on this one and I don't enjoy telling them that our victim count has increased, especially not when the suspect was within sight of one of my detectives."

"Our suspect shot Castle, Sir," she explains, hating that her voice quivers at the thought.

"And is Mr. Castle okay?"

Beckett nods. "It's just a flesh wound. But I didn't know that at the time -"

"So our suspect managed to murder someone else and get away unscathed, because you were checking on Mr. Castle. Is that correct?"

"Sir, I had to make sure that he was okay. I didn't know -" she tries again.

"Detective, it's human nature. If someone you know and a stranger both get hurt, instinct will have you checking on the person you're familiar with first. But still, I've suspected ever since I first took over this squad that you and Mr. Castle were too close. And this incident is drawing some unwanted attention from the higher ups. I'm ordering both you and Mr. Castle to undergo a psychological evaluation to determine whether or not you two are too close to be working together as partners."

She feels her breath hitch. Of course they're too close. The man is in love with her.

"But, Sir -"

"He is no cop, Detective. I could very easily just kick him out after a stunt like today.

Consider this to be a favor." Her gaze drifts back down to the paperwork on her desk.

"You're dismissed."

Beckett turns to leave Gates's office, heading back over to her desk. She sinks back down in her chair and looks over at Castle's. She had thought that things would never be the same between them after her shooting, but the real test was still yet to come.

* * *

"Darling, if Beckett told you to stay put and away from this case, I'd advise listening to her this once," his mother reasons, rubbing his forearm in empathy from her spot on the edge of his hospital bed, but she doesn't understand, she doesn't know Kate.

His mother hadn't seen the look on his partner's face when she had walked in and saw him lying in a hospital bed, hadn't seen the way her skin had drained of color and the guilt that had bloomed thick in her eyes. This case had put enough strain on her to begin with, but now she felt responsible for his shooting too, and the worst thing he could be doing is giving her space right now. Time and space are not always the best combination for Beckett.

At least, not where he's concerned.

But for the rest of the evening, he appeases his concerned mother and slightly panicked daughter, who carries hints of resentment that flicker in the strict line of her mouth and glimmer in the slits of her arctic eyes. He doesn't have to ask to know the reasons behind Alexis's discontent, to know why swirls of anger and disappointment hide in her features, but he won't apologize, he can't, because he isn't sorry.

Alexis is everything to him, but they've had this discussion too many times before. And yes, it's different now that he's finally been injured in the line of duty, but it had nothing to do with the woman his daughter is convinced will be his death sentence. It was his choice to go after their suspect, but he has a feeling that explanation would only upset Alexis even further.

"Head home for the night, Pumpkin," he coaxes when visiting hours have come to a close but Alexis is still sitting stubborn in the seat at his bedside. "I promise I'm okay and you need to sleep. You've got an early class tomorrow."

Alexis hesitates, glancing to the night nurse waiting patiently with his mother in the doorway to escort her out and then back to him with eyes spilling over with yearning.

"Please don't do anything stupid, Dad," she whispers, rising from the hard plastic of the chair to lean forward, drop a kiss to his forehead. "I just want you to heal, to be safe."

"I know, sweetheart," he acknowledges, lifting the arm on his good side to embrace her in a tentative hug, but he doesn't make any promises.

He wouldn't be able to keep them.

* * *

The graze beneath the cage of his ribs is still killing him by the next morning, sharp ripples of pain coasting strong and heavy through his side, dulled only by whatever medication had been dripping from his IV and coursing through his bloodstream. The doctor who treated him had promised he could be discharged today, but had insisted that Castle head straight home, where he should focus solely on his recovery that included hours of bed rest and relaxation.

Rick had agreed without hesitation and shuffled out of the hospital with his mother and daughter flanking his sides, but as soon as he finally made his way through the front door to the loft, he was ready to turn right back around.

"Dad, the doctor said _bed rest_ ," Alexis scolds, following after him as he shambles through his office to his bedroom, searching for a shirt that isn't stained in blood.

"Richard," he could hear his mother sighing from the doorway, blocking his exit, but he has to go. Too much time has passed already and it's already midmorning. He should have been at the precinct _hours_ ago. "Darling, you can barely even stand up straight, how do you plan to be of any assistance to Beckett this way?"

"I don't need to stand up to theorize with her. I can go through evidence, phone records, financials - all kinds of things and all from a chair. I'll be fine."

"I can't believe you," Alexis snaps from the doorway as he shrugs into a clean shirt, using every ounce of willpower not to wince under her glare and the rocket of searing heat that spreads like lava up and down his side, dripping from his bones as he maneuvers his arm through the sleeve. "Dad, you got _shot_ , does that mean anything at all to you?"

"Of course it does, but I'm not running after a killer again, Alexis, I promise. I'm just going down to the Twelfth to-"

"To be with her," she spats, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as his mother sucks in a quiet breath.

"To work this case," he corrects, because it's the truth. Of course he's going to see Beckett too, but she is not the sole reason his feet are impatiently awaiting his command to move forward, out of the loft and onto the precinct. He wants justice for the young girls whose lives were stolen just as much as Kate does and even if he has to wait on the sidelines, he needs to see this case through, needs to witness their killer put away and ensure that the victims' families receive the closure they deserve. "There are girls dying because of this guy and I-"

"You're not a cop," she reminds him, the words grinding past her teeth, a fury he recognizes from her mother flaring hot and blazing in her eyes. "How many times are you going to risk your life before you realize that?"

Alexis spins away from him before he can even formulate a response, the heels of her boots clicking harshly through the loft as she storms from his office, through the living room and to the front door, being sure to slam the door on her way out.

Castle sighs, shallowly to avoid awakening the sting coiled beneath his skin, and sinks down to the edge of his bed. "Well, she knows how to make an exit."

"Oh, kiddo," Martha murmurs, drifting in from the office to take a careful seat beside him on the bed. He allows his mother to take one of his hands from his lap, cradle his large palm between her two smaller ones, her thin fingers adorned in extravagant rings with bright jewel tones wrapping around his in comfort. "Alexis will come around, she always does. She's just worried about you."

"I know she is," he concedes, frowning at their tangled hands. "She has every right to be and if it's what she wants, I can - I'll stop going to the precinct."

"Honey, above all else, Alexis wants you happy. She knows what your time at the Twelfth means to you, but she also knows the real reason behind why you spend the majority of your days there."

Her words spark a memory, visions of an eerily familiar conversation from over a year ago, and when he meets his mother's eyes, he sees it was intentional.

"Mother, this isn't about Beckett."

Martha's brow arches, mirth simmering in her bright blue eyes. "When is it not about Beckett?"

He grunts, steals his hand back and grits his teeth when the action tugs at his stitches. "She's just - we're partners. I can't just sit around here while she does this on her own. I know she has the boys, but I'm… we-"

"You're her partner," his mother echoes with a nod. "And you don't want her working a difficult case alone, without your help and support, I understand that. But if I may make a suggestion?"

"Since when do you ask permission?" he huffs, the first hint of a real smile tugging at his lips as his mother waves him off.

"What happened yesterday, it could have been much worse, and while I must admit I am not a fan of your decision to continue putting yourself in danger..." She purses her lips but carries on with a gentle exhale. "I won't fault you for it. I'll support you in any and in every decision you make, Richard, but Alexis does have a point. One day you may not be so lucky and the last thing I want is for you to have regrets."

Castle's brow furrows, but his mother is staring back at him with resolution burning in her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Nobody's tomorrows are guaranteed," his mother states softly, a sad smile gracing her lips. "Hell the world could _end_ tomorrow and you two will still be standing on opposite sides of a wall. How much longer are you going to wait to tell Beckett how you feel while she is awake, not lying on the ground with a bullet in her chest?"

His own chest clenches at that, the mention of Beckett's shooting still a subject that causes his heart to constrict and his throat to close up. He doubts that will ever change.

"Mother-"

Martha raises both of her hands in supplication, quieting him. "I know, I know, she says she isn't ready, but when are any of us? Wouldn't it be better to tell her when the timing is wrong than never to tell her at all?"

Rick diverts his gaze to his knees, to the droplets of dried blood still staining the denim of his jeans. He knows the answer, but his mother doesn't demand it of him, rising from the bed and combing her fingers through the oily tresses of his hair.

"I know you both think it's complicated," she murmurs, patting his cheek with a motherly tenderness that eases some of the newborn conflict bubbling in his chest. "Only, it's not."

Castle sighs as the uncertainty surges up again, but his mother turns, disappearing from his bedroom with nothing more than an encouraging quirk of her lips thrown over her shoulder, leaving him alone to dissect his thoughts and the consequences of his choices.


	4. Chapter 4

Castle does his best to walk without issue when the elevator doors open onto the homicide floor, keeping his back straight even as his stitches pull and slivers of pain spread from the sewn skin. He ducks his head to avoid detection, hoping no one will approach him before he makes it to Beckett's desk. They all know what happened by now, he's sure of it, and he doesn't want any looks of pity, words of sympathy, or expressions of disappointment. Not like the one Kate had worn in the hospital.

She's hunched over her desk once he finally reaches his chair, gripping it with trembling hands and a breath of relief that signals his arrival.

Kate's head snaps up at the sound, her eyes widening with horror as they travel up to find his face. He tries to smile, like it's nothing out of the ordinary, like it's just another day working a case with her, but the burst of protest already blooming in her eyes tells him it won't be that easy.

"Castle, what the hell are you doing here?" she hisses, slamming her pen down on her desk, but he lifts his right hand – the side of him that still functions without aching – in supplication, attempts to placate her with the gesture.

"I'm working this case with you," he states, leaving no room for argument, but if the tightening in Beckett's jaw is any indication, his determination is not going to be enough to win this one.

"Break room," she growls, standing from her desk and pinning him with a glare that intimidated him once. "Now."

Castle glances down to the chair he's propped against, his bones already groaning at the thought of moving again, and she must notice his prolonged stillness, the preparation time he needs to make it across the bullpen.

"You can't even walk, can you?" she demands, quiet but incredulous, anger so prominent in her voice that he doesn't even have to look up to know her eyes are burning gold with agitation. "Dammit, Castle, you're going to make the wound _worse_."

He's ready to argue, but Kate's fingers are curling around his right elbow, gentle but supportive, guiding him away from the chair. She leads him to the break room without another word, ignoring the handful of curious glances they earn from officers milling around the homicide floor. They're lucky Ryan and Esposito aren't here - likely out running down another dead end he assumes - he would never live it down.

Kate closes the door behind them and ushers him to a chair pulled out from the table they sometimes use during lunch breaks, tightens her grip on his arm as he eases down into the seat with a wince he can't hide.

"Thank you," he mumbles, but receives nothing but a quick nod in response.

He watches her pace for a few seconds, drifting towards the coffee machine, and he wishes he had brought her coffee. She may be burdened with guilt – both over him and this case – but at least coffee, a piece of their form of normalcy, would have provided a chance to upturn the frown on her lips.

"You have to heal," she starts, turning to face him with her arms folded protectively over her chest. Her face is a hard mask, determined not to let him in, but her eyes plead with him. "You can't just show up the day after being _shot_ and act like everything's fine."

"What's wrong with me just hanging around here?" he questions, searching for cracks in her exterior, for a way to get through to her. _Just let me stay, Beckett._ "I won't do anymore suspect chasing on this one, but I refuse to just sit around while you work this by yourself."

Her exasperation is tangible, exuding from the tense line of her body in front of him, and he rises from the chair – much to her dismay – shuffles towards her until her back is pressed against the edge of the countertop.

"We're partners and I-"

"Exactly," she snaps, her throat bobbing with a hard swallow. "We're partners and I don't want to… to lose you, especially not like this. Not when I'm supposed to be keeping you safe when we're out there."

"Beckett, it's not your fault," he murmurs, resisting the urge to untangle one of her hands from the cross of her arms, to stroke her knuckles and cradle her fingers as he had for the briefest of moments yesterday morning. Before everything had gone all wrong. "I should have waited on your call, I realize that now. It was my decision to go after him."

"And I let him get away," she mutters, lifting one of her hands to sift through her hair, clutching the nape of her neck as she lowers her eyes to the floor. "You were shot for nothing," she repeats, the words from yesterday holding the same sting, despite their lack of accusation this time.

"I know," he concedes on a sigh. "And now a girl is dead because of me, I'm-"

Beckett jerks, her head already shaking in disagreement. "No, no, not because of you. I shouldn't have said that yesterday, Rick. I didn't mean it. He would have killed her either way." Her hand falls from her neck and reaches forward, cautious in its descent, careful as it approaches his side. Castle doesn't move when her fingers hover over his ribs, over the spot where a bandage is taped over the ripped skin where a bullet tore a path. "He played us. He wanted us to see it, to think we had him, to blame ourselves… we can't let him do that. Can't let him win."

Kate's fingers graze the fabric of his shirt before withdrawing to her side, curling into a fist.

"He won't," Castle affirms, resolve building in his chest, overwhelming the dull fireworks of pain that will likely cease to exist without the medication he purposely left on his bedside table at home. "Kate, I want to talk about the case, about our latest victim. I want to know any and every development made overnight, but there's something you need to know first."

"Castle," she warns, quiet, not enough to stop him.

"I've just been thinking, about the victims, and all the opportunities they'll never have, and about the things in my own life that I don't want to put off anymore."

Knowledge flickers in her eyes as they meet his, trepidation trickling out to spread along the lines of her face. But no fear, no denial either, and that gives him hope and the courage he's been lacking since the summer.

"Can this - can it wait, until after the case?"

"No, because if this case has taught me anything so far, it's that we may not have that long."

Her eyes flood with alarm and okay, maybe he should have presented his reasoning with a little less despair in his tone, but it's true. They've nearly died far too many times in the last four years and just as his mother said, one day he might not be so lucky. The last thing he wants is to look back on his life, on his time with Kate, and feel the regret of things left unsaid. Not anymore.

"Okay," she murmurs, taking a deep breath in preparation and nodding her assent.

"Okay?" he echoes, stepping in close, too close, especially for their workplace, but she doesn't flinch or back away. She holds his gaze.

"Yeah, Castle. There are things I don't want to put off telling you anymore either."

Excitement rushes through his blood, overriding the underlying ache in his side, allowing him to forget the injury completely.

"Okay," he starts again, the smile tentative but tugging at his lips. Contagious, apparently, because her mouth curves upwards in return and his hopefulness reaches new heights. And maybe this is it. Maybe she's finally ready. "Well, I've been thinking that-"

"Ah, Mr. Castle."

He startles, turns too quickly at the sound of Gates' voice in the doorway of the break room, hissing at the twist and spiral of agony that splits down the entirety of his left side.

"Castle," he hears Kate grit out, her hands feathering around him, but not touching, whether in fear of hurting him or showing concern in front of her superior, he isn't sure.

"Shouldn't you be at home? Recovering?" the captain questions, eyeing the two of them with unhidden suspicion.

"Sir," Kate cuts in, slipping away to stand like a blockade between him and Gates' assessing gaze. "Castle was just-"

"I'm fine, Captain," he pipes up before Beckett can have him ordered away. Rick straightens up, grinds his teeth against the reverberating stinging awakened and racing up his side, and takes a steady step forward.

Gates doesn't look the least bit convinced.

"Well, in that case, you seem in well enough to take part in the psychological evaluation I informed Detective Beckett about yesterday evening. I had planned to hold off on the proceedings until you were healed, but if you insist you're good health…" Gates shrugs her shoulders. "I'll get the ball rolling on that, but for now, you two just focus on the case."

Gates flicks her gaze between the two of them once more, lingering on Beckett with a knowing look that sets him on edge, before turning on her heel and exiting the break room.

"Psychological evaluation?" Castle repeats once the captain is striding across the bullpen, back into her office with determination. He turns back to Kate, feels his stomach twist at the pale quality to her skin, the dread unhidden and raging in her dark eyes. "Kate?"

"I chose you over a citizen in need," she whispers, wrapping her arms around her middle. "People in charge took notice of that, Gates took notice of that, and so she's ordering a psychological evaluation. To determine whether or not we're too close to work together anymore."

His stomach drops out, his heart plummeting down along with it. A test to determine whether or not they're _too close_? Of course they're too close.

He's in love with her.

They're destined to fail.

* * *

"This just came in the mail for us," Esposito says, striding back into the bullpen with Ryan in tow.

"Is it connected to the case?" Kate asks, reaching for the large manila envelope in his outstretched hand.

"We're not sure," Ryan answers, doing a double take when he sees Castle sitting in his usual spot next to her desk. "Shouldn't you be at home on bed rest?"

"The guy shot me. It's personal now," he says with a slight lift of his shoulders.

Kate doesn't miss the quick glances that get sent her way as she opens the envelope. She knows what they're thinking, what they would never say out loud.

 _Just like Beckett._

"And besides," Castle keeps talking. "I want this guy as bad as you do for his crimes against these women. I can't just sit back and not help."

Kate pulls out a small strand of chain links, three of them, from the envelope and holds them up confused.

"Is that all that's in there?" Castle asks.

She sets the chain down on her desk and sticks her hand back in the envelope, fingers curling around a small piece of paper. She pulls it out and reads it aloud.

"Here's your next clue. 24 hours to solve or else another girl will die."

She can feel the tension rising in the room. He's taunting them now, _testing_ them. Raising the stakes impossibly higher as he starts to set deadlines, starts to really put the death of these women on them.

"When did the 24 hours start?" Castle asks. "The moment he sent this or the moment we received it?"

"He wouldn't know when we opened it," Kate rationalizes. "Unless he's watching us."

Her eyes scan around the squad room like she's trying to pick out someone that doesn't belong. But she recognizes everyone she sees; they all belong there. And surely this killer isn't one of their own.

"But when did it get sent?" Esposito asks.

They're all quiet, staring at one another, realizing they don't know how much time they actually have left before he kills again. There is no pattern to his timeframe. The first two murders were hours apart, the third two days after that. He will kill when he decides he wants to, maybe even waiting until he sees them arrive at the landmark to decide that their time is up. They just can't catch a break with this guy.

"So what do the chain links mean?" Ryan asks. "He's keeping the girl somewhere chained up?"

Kate shakes her head. "He's never kept his targets before. It's usually random. The first girl he sees meeting his MO."

"But they've all been at famous landmarks throughout the city," Esposito adds. "Tourist attractions. So where's somewhere that would have chains or a chain link fence?"

"The cast-iron buildings between Lafayette and Broadway?" Ryan suggests with a shrug.

"But what I don't get," Castle starts, interrupting their brainstorming, "is why the 24 hours if he's not already holding a victim? Say we figure it out before then and show up wherever it is. How does that prevent anything if he's not there? Is he just camped out at this landmark and will turn himself in if we catch him?"

Kate taps her index finger against her chin, turning to study their murder board and the lists of landmarks he's already killed at. "You're right, that doesn't make sense. Maybe he's escalating, kidnapping them before he kills."

"Does this mean we have to get SVU involved?" Esposito asks.

"Lanie said she hadn't noticed any signs of sexual assault on the other victims, so unless he's completely changing his game plan I don't think we need to get them involved." She paces in front of the murder board, trying to find a connection between the landmarks he's already chosen. "Other ideas about the chain links?"

"What about the zoo?" Ryan asks. "Bronx or Central Park. The chains could be a symbolic thing representing the caged animals."

She nods, starting to make a list on the blank space of the white board. "Okay, what else?"

"This one might be a stretch, but I want to make sure all of our bases are covered," Castle starts. "Lincoln Center. Because of the _links_. And there's three of them, forcing one into the center."

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but that actually makes sense, Castle," Esposito tells him.

Castle shoots him a _gee, thanks_ look as Kate adds it to the list. She caps the lid onto the whiteboard marker and spins back around to face the boys.

"Okay, let's start with what we have here. Maybe while we're out, something else will come to us. But I don't want to waste more time than is necessary."

"I can keep brainstorming from here," Castle offers. "Call you if anything comes to mind."

Kate glances over at him, but her eyes leave his when she notices a petite blonde headed into Gates's office carrying a briefcase. She wonders if that's the department shrink here to evaluate them. She finds herself wishing that Burke could be the one to give them the psych eval, she has at least become comfortable around him.

"Think she's here for us?" Castle asks, following her gaze.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, just needing to get out of here. She has leads to chase down, no time to sit around and talk about her feelings with some stranger. Feelings she has for Castle, for her partner.

"We should go," Kate says, turning back to the boys, just needing to leave before Gates summons her to go first. "Call us if you think of something else, Castle."

They're halfway to the elevator when she hears Gates call Castle into her office. The blonde _is_ the shrink. It's starting, the possible beginning of the end. And she doesn't want to be here to watch it crumble before her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Gates has offered up the break room for this evaluation, clearly wanting to make him feel more comfortable than he would being questioned about his feelings for Beckett in an interrogation room. But the familiar, comfortable surroundings do nothing to calm his nerves or ease his anxiety. He's afraid that he could screw this up, their partnership. That one wrong answer could send him packing, left to be nothing more than what he was before he met her.

He doesn't want to go back to that. He can't.

"So, Mr. Castle," Dr. Hendrix starts, tapping her pen against her notepad on the table. "Why don't you start by explaining to me how you ended up in this arrangement?"

"Well I'm a mystery writer," he pauses, waiting to see if he gets a recognizable reaction out of her. He doesn't. So he sighs and continues. "And someone decided to copy the murders from my books about 4 years ago. Detective Beckett caught the case and inevitably questioned me to make sure I wasn't the culprit. She, or more so her captain at the time, was gracious enough to let me stay on the case and assist since, theoretically speaking, they were my murders. After that case, I called in a favor with my friend the mayor and was granted permission to start shadowing Detective Beckett as research for my next book series."

"And how did Detective Beckett take to you shadowing her?" she asks, jotting something down on her notepad.

He tries to read her notes from across the table, but the angle is wrong. "She was annoyed. Didn't want me there."

"And has that changed? Her annoyance?"

"Oh I'm sure I still annoy her, plenty," Castle laughs, hoping to at least get a smile out of the psychiatrist. But her face remains impartial, looking as though she's waiting for him to elaborate more. "Umm she's friendlier now. It's better."

"What do you mean by friendlier?"

How does he even begin to describe it? That her looks that used to say she wanted to strangle him have turned into something he mistakes every now and then for love?

"Well," he starts, hesitantly. "She doesn't demand that I stay in the car anymore. She's come to see me as her partner more so than the writer who follows her around. And we've talked about stuff. Things I don't think she would have shared with me if our relationship had remained as it was that first year."

"What sort of things?"

For some reason, he bristles at that. "You'd have to ask her that. They're not my secrets to tell."

Hendrix bends her head and writes something else down. He wonders if it's a reminder to ask Beckett or notes that say he's protective of her.

"So you consider yourselves to be friends now? As well as partners?"

"Well yeah -"

"Do you have any police training, Mr. Castle?"

"I, no -"

"And yet you consider yourself to be her equal partner in the field, chasing after suspects as an unarmed citizen?"

He feels like he's in court being cross-examined here. Not that he knows what that feels like beyond the occasional _Law & Order_ rerun he'll catch...

"I know my boundaries. But it's my job to have her back," Castle tries to protest.

Her eyes flick up to him and he can tell what she's thinking. What she would say aloud if she was really an attorney questioning him on the stand and not a psychiatrist evaluating him here.

 _No, it's your job to write stories about the character she inspired_.

"Four years," Hendrix says instead. "You don't have enough source material by now?"

 _It's not about the books anymore._

"I'm her partner," he says again through gritted teeth.

Hendrix continues to take notes and he knows that he's screwing this up. He's not a cop. He knows that. But that doesn't stop him from being a part of this team. It doesn't stop his need to protect Beckett when she needs the backup.

"Tell me about what happened at Washington Square Park."

It's like the pain at his side intensifies at the memory and he wonders if Beckett's bullet wound still does the same thing.

"Our guy was there. Our killer. Beckett and I both saw him, but when he saw us he started to run. I guess I wasn't thinking when I took off after him. But in my head, I had it planned that I was going to chase him right to where Beckett was going to cut him off. But I didn't give her enough warning or - I don't know. I was just trying to help, but I got shot. By the killer and not Beckett just to clarify. And instead of continuing to chase after him she came to check on me. She had no way of knowing it was just a flesh wound. She didn't know that by making the decision she did, our killer would kill someone else right there at the park."

Hendrix writes something else. "You're very protective of her, aren't you?"

Of course he is. He's in love with her.

"She's my partner," he says again, lamely.

More notes. "I was told the two of you recently closed a case with the CIA. Are you always given such high clearance, Mr. Castle?"

"The same as the rest of the team. Look, I know it doesn't make sense on paper, but ask anyone who works here, I'm an honorary member of this squad."

She doesn't respond like she knows he has more to say, something else to add. Did Gates give her tips? Things she wanted addressed in this evaluation?

"And the CIA thing," Castle adds, at a loss for what she's looking for here. "I knew the agent in charge. I shadowed her a couple years back for _Derrick Storm_."

When Hendrix looks at him now, he almost detects a look of interest on her face.

"So you make a habit of doing this, then? Shadowing women in high powered careers?"

"You make it sound like I'm stalking them," he says defensively. "Which I'm not."

"Do you ever feel like you're stalking them?"

Okay, now he's offended. "No. Of course not."

"So tell me about this CIA operative. What was your relationship with her like?"

He feels his throat run dry. If he tells her that things got romantic with Sophia, will she assume that's where he and Beckett are headed too? That's he's not capable of having a platonic relationship with a woman? But if he's being honest with himself, he doesn't want it to be platonic anymore. He _wants_ things to head in the romantic direction. Are psychiatrists trained to tell when someone is lying?

"We only worked together for about a year. Clara wasn't the main character unlike Nikki."

He wants to bite his tongue. None of this is coming out right. He's too close to her. _They're too close_.

"So you would say your partnership with Detective Beckett is stronger than that which you shared with this other woman?"

 _Not good. Not good. Not good._

"Yes."

She writes more and then pauses as though she's reviewing her notes. He wants to be done with this. He wants to take another pain pill from the bottle he left back at home. He wants to focus on what else in the city three chain links could be pointing to. He wants to get out of this room before he puts his foot in his mouth.

"I want to go back for a moment here," Hendrix says, finally looking up from her notes. "Back to you getting shot. Do you think this incident will change your approach here on this team, as you put it?"

"I should have waited for Beckett to make the call before I pursued the suspect. I understand that. "

"That doesn't answer my question."

Castle grits his teeth together. "It's just a flesh wound."

"You say that like someone who's been shot before. Has that happened?"

No. But she was shot. Right through the heart. He watched the life leave her eyes. He knows that she was a lot closer to death than he was. He knows that she has PTSD from the event. She's never come right out and said it, but he could tell during that sniper case that she was struggling, that the events of that day still haunt her. So this scrape along his side? It's painful, but it's nothing compared to what she went through. It's just a flesh wound.

"Mr. Castle?" Hendrix prompts again.

"Beckett was shot. It almost killed her. So yes, I recognize the dangers of this job. I get that you want my getting shot to be some sort of wake up call to me, but I already had one of those when she got shot right in front of me. I plan to keep operating as a member of this team as I've always done it. I have helped to save her life numerous times without an ounce of police training. I don't need you to tell me that I'm not qualified to be her partner because I already am."

She puts her pen down and folds her hands together on the table. "You feel very strongly about being her partner. Why is that? Is it the job you're attached to or the person?"

This is it. This is where he has to lie to save their asses.

"Both."

That's not technically a lie, is it?

Hendrix narrows her eyes at him, like she doesn't quite believe him. "That'll be all for now, Mr. Castle. Although I may ask to speak with you again after talking to Detective Beckett. Do you have any idea when she'll be back?"

"She's out trying to catch a serial killer. I wouldn't count on it being anytime soon."

He leaves the break room feeling almost irrationally angry with the woman. She's only doing her job. His feelings for Beckett might be the real reason that screws everything up. But still, he hates Hendrix for being here, for looking at him like she _knows_. Is it really all over his face when he talks about her? Is it so wrong to be protective of your partner? Ryan and Esposito are protective of each other, right?

Castle shuffles back over to his chair, sinking down into it with added effort. He yearns again for his bottle of pain pills, for the medication that could spread through his system and work immediately. Stress does not go well with gunshot wounds.


	6. Chapter 6

They head to Lincoln Center first, agreeing that Castle's theory actually made the most sense for once. There is no event scheduled at the Center for the day, but people continue to mill about out front. Tourists snapping pictures, people relaxing on the grass, enjoying the first nice day of the year.

"Should we be looking for a guy dressed in all black?" Ryan asks, his eyes already scanning the crowd. "Or should we be focusing on any college-aged girls that might be around?"

"I feel like if he's here waiting, he might not be in plain sight," Beckett answers, scanning the crowd as well. "The building offers daily tours. What if he got in on one of those and snuck off? He could be anywhere just waiting to strike."

"If this is even the right place," Esposito mumbles.

"Hey, I suggested we split up," she reminds him. "You're the one who thought it would be better if there were three of us to catch him."

"Well I'm not seeing anyone out here in all black," Ryan says. "Should we go inside? See if they have a tour log or anything?"

"You guys go do that," Esposito says. "I'll stay out here and keep watch just in case."

Beckett nods in agreement to his suggestion and follows Ryan inside. They approach the man at the front desk and start asking questions about the daily tours. She starts to wander away as Ryan talks, trying to scope out possible hiding places. She's sick of playing hide-and-seek with this bastard. It's about time they're the ones with the upper hand.

She stares up at the split staircase, overwhelmed with how much area there is to cover. If he's keeping a girl here, she could be anywhere. She doubts he's the type to leave her out in the open.

"Beckett," Ryan calls, coming up behind her. "The clerk at the desk remembers a man in a black hoodie paying for the 11:00 tour in cash. Says he doesn't remember seeing him leave."

"What time is it now?" she asks, looking down at her father's watch. "1:05. You think he's hiding here somewhere? Waiting for a tour to pass where he can grab his next victim?"

"Sounds like we better go on a tour ourselves. The one o'clock tour just started. We could catch up."

She nods and they head back to the desk clerk to ask for directions. They catch up to the back of the tour group, not finding any hiding spots on the way. The group moves down the hallway, the tour guide rambling on about the last renovation. Beckett spots a door on her left marked maintenance, and nudges Ryan's side.

"Do you really think it's that simple?" he whispers.

"We have to look or else we'll end up kicking ourselves for it," she whispers back.

He nods in agreement as she breaks free from the group to open the door.

"Excuse me, you can't go in there," the tour guide calls to them.

Ryan holds up his badge and a finger to his lips, indicating the tour guide needs to keep quiet at the risk of spooking whoever's inside. That is _if_ there's anyone inside.

The door easily opens at the twist of the handle, and that right there tells her that something is off. Maintenance rooms tend to be kept locked. Beckett fumbles for the light switch along the wall and flips it on, illuminating the dark room. She draws in a sharp breath when she spots the girl tied to a chair with duct tape over her mouth.

She mutters under her breath as she rushes to free the girl. Ryan is right behind her, other members of the tour group trying to get a peek as well.

"It's okay, we're the police," Beckett assures the trembling girl as she unties her wrists. "I'm going rip this tape off, okay?"

The girl nods and Beckett tears it free. Ryan bends down to free her ankles while Beckett waves off the stragglers from the tour group.

"I'm Detective Beckett and this is Detective Ryan. What's your name?"

"Me - Melissa," she stammers, still shaking.

Beckett tosses her a sympathetic smile. "Melissa, do you remember what happened?"

"I was on a tour with my music class," she starts, rubbing at her wrists. "I stopped to use the restroom. When I came back out, I noticed the group had moved on without me. I guess college isn't like elementary school where they stop to count heads every five minutes. I saw a man standing by the water fountain and asked if he had seen what direction they'd taken. I think he hit me over the head or something." She rubs at the back of her head. "Because the next thing I remember is waking up in here."

"Do you remember what this guy looked like?" Ryan asks.

"Umm he had on a black hoodie. I only saw his face for a moment. He was white, pretty tall."

Beckett and Ryan exchange a look.

"What time did your tour start?" Beckett asks.

"11:30, I think."

"So the guy takes the tour at 11 and then hides out and waits until he finds the perfect victim," Ryan surmises. "But why make her so easy to find?"

"Maybe he wanted us to find her," Beckett suggests. "Or maybe he didn't expect us to figure out his clue so soon."

"Whatever it is, I expect we'll be hearing from him again very soon."

* * *

They bring Melissa back to the precinct, hoping to jog her memory about any other details about her kidnapper. Beckett spies Castle struggling to get out of his chair to greet her so she moves to him instead.

"You found her?" he asks. "Was he holding her somewhere?"

"We found her tied up in a maintenance room at Lincoln Center. You were right, Castle. But finding her was almost too easy and that worries me."

"Maybe he's getting sloppy," Castle suggests.

Beckett chews on her lower lip. "He doesn't seem like the type."

"Well listen, while you were gone -"

"Detective Beckett?"

She spins around and sees the blonde woman from earlier, standing in the doorway to the break room.

"Do you have a moment?" she asks.

"Actually we just brought in a victim and -" Beckett starts, but is cut off by Gates.

"Ryan and Esposito can handle taking her statement," Gates says. "You have time to do this now."

She feels her heart jump into her throat as she chances a glance at Castle. He's looking at her like he's sorry, like he already said too much during his evaluation. She doesn't want to do this. Doesn't want to lose him.

"We can talk in here," the shrink says, gesturing to the break room.

Beckett reluctantly follows her in, half listening as she introduces herself as Dr. Hendrix. She wants to know what Castle said to her, realizes now that was what he started to tell her before they were interrupted. Typical.

She hears Hendrix say something about getting started and wills herself to focus. "Mr. Castle has been shadowing you for about four years now, is that correct?"

"Yes," she answers with a small nod.

"And you have no problem with letting it continue, despite the fact that he probably has sufficient information for his books by now?"

What is she supposed to say to that? That she likes having him around? That she can't imagine doing this job without him anymore?

"He's become more of a partner than anything," Beckett says instead.

She doesn't like the look that passes over Hendrix's face at that. It causes the knot in her stomach to pull tighter.

"So you're okay with having an unarmed citizen as your partner, sometimes as your only backup?"

"He doesn't need to be armed to have my back. He's already saved it several times."

Hendrix makes a note of something on her notepad and Beckett wishes she had chosen a better seat so she could read her notes.

"Do you think his time shadowing the CIA operative helped prepare him for this role as your partner?"

She practically feels a growl stick in her throat. What the hell does Sophia have to do with anything?

"I couldn't say," Beckett tries to shrug it off.

But Hendrix picks up on her body language, sensing her distaste for Castle's ex-muse. "You didn't like her. What was it about her that you didn't take well to?"

The fact that he'd slept with her probably wasn't an acceptable answer here, was it?

"I guess we just didn't see eye to eye on the case."

Hendrix raises an eyebrow at her. "Is that all?"

Beckett nods. "I thought we were here to discuss what happened on my current case not a previous one."

"Well then why don't we talk about that? Go ahead, Detective."

"I was forced to make a difficult choice and I chose my partner. Just about any cop would have done the same."

The psychiatrist glances over her notes and her silence makes Beckett feel even more uneasy.

"The question here isn't about ethics," the woman says, making eye contact again. "But I assume you already know that. The fact that you're both so quick to defend each other is very telling."

She doesn't know where this is headed. Doesn't know what this woman is implying. She feels like she has to get out in front of this line of questioning, take control of the interrogation like she always does.

"What are you suggesting? That I have feelings for my partner?"

Hendrix grows very still and _shit,_ why did she ask that? She screwed up. Rewind. Take it back. _Please_ take it back.

"I wasn't," Hendrix says slowly. "But now I feel obligated to ask. Do you have feelings for Mr. Castle, Detective?"


	7. Chapter 7

Shaken. If he had to use one word to describe Kate Beckett as she exits the break room with her arms taut and her hands curled into fists at her sides, her eyes downcast and her spine a wire of tension, it would be shaken. Whatever happened in that break room screams bad news according to Beckett's body language.

But could it have really gone any worse than his session with Hendrix? Castle cranes his neck past the murder board he's standing – hiding – behind, catching a glimpse of the petite blond woman still seated at the table through the open doorway, her legs crossed and her pen moving quickly across the notebook he recognizes from his evaluation.

Maybe so.

"Beckett," he whispers before she can surpass him for her desk, earning a quick glance, a glimpse into her eyes, practically drained of color, dark and unfocused. His concern blooms in his chest as he signals her, both of them watching between Gates's office and the break room still occupying the department psychiatrist that knows far too much.

The murder board offers them significant cover from both sources, but Castle still pretends he's studying the notes and images occupying the large white board, keeps his body angled away from Beckett's. No need to give Hendrix any more ammunition than she already has.

"You okay?" he murmurs, studying her from the corner of his eye, watching her breath rattle in her lungs, clambering up to slip unsteadily from her lips. "That bad?"

"Pretty sure I sealed the deal," Beckett mutters, chewing on the corner of her bottom lip, staring up at the board with scrutiny and sorrow threatening to tremble in her chin.

"What did she ask, what did she say to you? What did you say to her?" he fires off the questions too fast, unfairly, but his heart is pounding in his chest now, thrumming with despair and causing his gunshot wound to ache.

This can't be the end. Not for them, their partnership.

Beckett huffs at the onslaught and crosses her arms, arches her brow in response. "You first."

"She asked about you, our – our relationship," he manages, swallowing around the word. To call her his partner is safe, to call this thing between them a partnership has always been acceptable, but a relationship? That feels like entirely new, unexplored and dangerous territory. "About past experiences, like Sophia-"

Kate scoffs, irritation flickering in her gaze. "No wonder she brought her up during my evaluation."

"She was comparing how I worked alongside the two of you, but when I tried to explain how my time with you has been different, she asked if my partnership was more important, and I – I said yes," he shrugs, almost afraid of Kate's reaction, but beneath the layer of stress and the impending sense of doom this ordeal has bathed her in, Castle notices a soft flint of satisfaction flash gold in her irises. "What'd she say to you about her?"

"She asked about the case we worked with her and the CIA and proceeded to imply that I was jealous," Beckett mumbles, that soft look in her eyes hardening into a glare.

Intrigue, totally inappropriate and horribly timed interest, flares to the forefront of his mind. "Were you?"

"Castle," she sputters, shooting him an incredulous look. "That is not relevant to the issue at hand here."

Well, that was answer enough for him.

Rick nods his agreement, suppressing the smug smile that begs to be freed; it would be nice to have his lips turning upwards for a change. He thinks he's earning a few permanent frown lines from this case.

"What else did she say?" Kate prompts, scanning the bullpen again.

"Just about the case, about me getting shot. She - your shooting came up." Her body stiffens harshly beside him. "It just felt like she was questioning my place on this team, as your partner and I – I'm sorry, Beckett. If anyone's to blame for us no longer working together, it's me-"

"Castle." His name is quiet, a comforting sound at his side, almost as surprising as the gentle hand she places to his arm. "This isn't your fault."

"If I just would have listened to you in the first place, I never would have been shot and none of this would have-"

"Hendrix asked me if I have feelings for you."

That effectively shuts him up, forces his head to snap towards her, but just as his lips part to speak, the click of heels on hardwood steals her attention, has her arm falling back to her side. Hendrix is exiting the break room, striding for Gates's office and taking notice of them both with a raised brow that has his blood simmer to its former level of irritation the woman evoked earlier. But the heat of Kate's hand has seared the spot on his arm where her fingers had so tentatively curled and once again, the question bubbles on his tongue, and once again he is interrupted before the words can form.

The phone on her desk rings through the bullpen and Beckett sighs, rubbing at the spot between her eyebrows where he knows her headaches often blossom. She offers him an apologetic glance, that fierce sadness back and swimming in her gaze as she turns and heads for her desk, and… she said she had likely sealed the deal on the devastation of their partnership. Did that mean-

The collision of hope and disbelief in his chest fall secondary when he takes note of the widening of her eyes, the quick signal she sends Ryan with a gesture of her fingers he recognizes from a day that felt like a lifetime ago. Castle winces at the tug in his side but scrambles to make it to her side, already knowing who's on the other line.

* * *

"Detective," the cool, familiar voice on the other end of the line greets, sends an uncomfortable shudder down her spine. Ryan is already tracking the call, but they're all aware the chances of gaining a trace are slim. This guy is smart, that much is obvious, and the only way they're going to successfully track him down is if their killer wants to be found. "How is Mr. Castle feeling?"

"Go to hell," she snaps without thinking, earning a narrowed look from Esposito, a reminder to keep calm, but their budding serial killer doesn't seem to mind her outburst, chuckling in response.

"Since you foiled my last plan in such record time, I'm giving you a shorter deadline to solve this one."

A fist of dread clenches in her gut, but Beckett retains her composure, refuses to allow an ounce of the trepidation to leak into her voice when she responds. "Are deadlines and games really necessary? If you want me to find you, why don't you just tell me where you are so we can meet, have a civil discussion?"

The man laughs, low and throaty, wholly unsettling. "You know better than that, Detective," he hums, but Beckett is straining to identify the noises she can hear in the background, the sounds of the city slipping through the speaker. "But if you're doubting your abilities, I can be generous enough to give you a clue. In one hour, I will be standing in the largest basement of New York City."

Castle, who is practically plastered to her side, listening to every word, gasps, staggers to the murder board and snags a marker from the holder.

"Now, unless you want to lose another victim, I would suggest you meet me there." Her eyes follow her partner to the white board where he's found a clear space amidst the scribble of words and blockades of photographs. "The clock's ticking, don't want to miss your departure."

The line disconnects, but Castle is already finished writing.

"Grand Central Station!" he announces, tapping at the words he's scrawled across the board with the head of the marker. "The largest basement of the city is referred to as Grand Central Station. That's where he'll be hiding out with our next victim."

Beckett grabs her leather jacket from the head of her office chair, not having to speak to know Ryan and Esposito are following suit, what she does not expect is for Castle to do the same, approaching her with determination flaring bright and irrefutable in his eyes.

"Castle-"

"I'm coming with you," he states, leaving no room for argument, and she _knows_ this is wrong, knows she's probably making the same mistake twice, but she also knows their time is limited and she won't waste it arguing.

"You're staying in the car."

Castle doesn't respond, merely strides ahead of her for the elevator, needing the advanced start. His injury constricts him, slows his movements, and she uses the visible restriction as a reminder while she jogs to catch up with him.

She will not put him in harm's way again.


	8. Chapter 8

"Ryan and Espo are fifteen minutes behind, rallying backup." Beckett shoves her cellphone back into the inside pocket of her jacket after receiving word from Esposito and puts her cruiser in park in front of Grand Central Station. Despite the use of her lights, traffic had slowed them down, eaten up valuable time, and now their hour was almost up.

"We can't wait for them," Castle murmurs, reading her mind, and she sighs her agreement, checking the gun on her hip.

"I'm going to head in, you-"

Castle is already unbuckling his seatbelt, though, his hand curling around the door handle, but hers darts out to clutch his forearm, halting his movements.

"You're staying in the car," she reminds him, pinning him with a strict glare, but it fails to deter him. If anything, she thinks, it only furthers to encourage the defiance that rises in his eyes.

"Beckett, you are not going in there alone," Castle informs her, just as stubborn, meeting her narrowed gaze with one of his own. "This guy would not give away his location unless he had a plan and I am not letting you walk into his trap without some form of backup."

"Ryan and Espo are-"

"Not here yet. We're running out of time and that means his next potential victim is too," he reminds her and the knot in her stomach twists tighter, impossibly tight now, ready to snap. "I'm still your partner, Kate, for now anyway, and I'm going to have your back in there today."

Her eyes squeeze shut at the words, hates to even think about the implication of them, to fathom losing him as a partner and going back to the way it was before he stampeded his way into her life. He may not have been welcome then, when he was nothing more than an annoying tagalong, but he had evolved from a simple shadow tailing her for research. He had made her job fun, become that elusive possibility for joy, coaxing a smile from her on even the worst days, and she's just not ready to give that up. She doesn't think she'll ever be ready to give him up.

"Beckett," he prompts, rotating the arm her hand is still splayed across, capturing her fingers in his upturned palm and offering it a gentle brush of his thumb that has her snapping back into the moment, retracting her hand and growling her assent.

"Fine." Beckett hikes her knee up to her chest, slips her hands beneath the leg of her pants to retrieve the backup piece strapped to her ankle. "If you're going in with me, here."

Castle hesitates when she holds out the gun to him. It wouldn't be the first time he worked as armed backup for her, wouldn't be the first time he was in possession of her gun, but the stakes were higher now, the consequences far more steep.

"This may be the last case we work together," she murmurs, training her eyes on the gun still between them. "But I won't put you in danger again, especially without a way to defend yourself this time."

Castle covers the gun in her hand with his palm, grazing the thudding pulse of her wrist with his fingertips before accepting the weapon, checking the safety and concealing it beneath his jacket until he can slip free from the car, secure it subtly in the waistband of his pants.

"Castle," she calls on the sidewalk, stopping him before he can enter the station. He pauses for her, twisting to catch a glance of her approaching from over his shoulder, paying for the move if the twitch of pain in his jaw is any indication.

This is such a bad idea.

"Ready?"

It all feels so final. A final showdown with a serial killer, one last stride into battle with her partner at her side; she has so little hope for a happy ending.

"Wait," she murmurs, coming to a stop at his side and flicking her eyes down to the memorized spot of his bullet wound, tentatively lifting her hand and dusting two of her fingertips over the slightly raised fabric of his shirt, feeling the cloth of the bandage beneath, along with the gentle tremor that spreads through his frame. "Promise me that if it goes wrong in there, you'll make the right choice."

Castle's brow furrows, his eyes sharp and intent on her when she gathers the courage to meet his gaze, but clarity is rippling through his irises a second later, and then he's nodding in reply. "I will."

The knot in her stomach loosens by just a fraction.

* * *

Splitting up is never a good idea, they should know this by now, but Grand Central Station is massive and there's so much ground to cover and the clock in middle of the terminal is ticking, counting down the final ten minutes they have left.

Castle is strolling along the perimeter, making his best attempt not to appear suspicious, keeping his head down to hide his face. But the killer knows them, quite well by now, and hiding in plain sight amongst the flocks of people filling the station is likely a pointless act. Even from his position across the congested room, Rick can see Beckett standing out amidst the sea of movement, inconspicuously scanning each and every face in the crowd for a tall white male who favors all black attire, frustration brewing in her eyes at the lack of discovery.

Security has already been alerted and the boys should be outside right now, contacting Beckett at any moment, but he has the sinking feeling that it's going to be too late, that this is all going to go horribly wrong, and he doesn't want Beckett alone in the crowd when it does. Castle starts back towards his partner, the gun heavy and awkward at his waist, his side throbbing with the strain of constant movement and lack of pain medication, but before he can reach her, Kate comes to a stiff halt, her spine tensing with her shoulders.

That sinking feeling in his gut flares into suffocating panic.

He isn't the first to see the gun, a shout from somewhere behind Kate and the man at her back like a ripple effect, sending a wave of terror through the crowd, but the sounds of hysteria fade from his hearing as he watches the man, their suspect, lift the barrel of the gun to the side of Kate's skull.

" _No_!" The word scrapes past his throat as he fights his way through the crowd rushing past him, away from the impending tragedy while he races towards it. Castle retrieves the gun from his waistband just steps before he can reach them, but he's forced to a stop when the other man notices him, banding his arm around Beckett's chest, jerking her back, and placing his finger to the trigger.

"Stop or she dies, Mr. Castle," the man states, smirking at him over Kate's shoulder, the dull flares of his eyes sparking beneath the shadow of his signature black hood. "Looks like I found my next victim. Not my usual type, but fitting enough I'd say."

Castle raises his weapon, tries not to meet Beckett's wide eyes when they flash towards him. "Castle, no! You promised me!"

"Oh Castle, breaking promises? Never good," the man shakes his head in disapproval, the smirk on his mouth spreading wider while Beckett squirms, attempting to elbow him in the ribs and earning a bash of the gun to her temple that has Castle tightening his hold on the gun, clicking off the safety.

"Let her go," he growls, the sweat of his palms causing the Glock to feel slippery, the weeping wound now oozing blood into Kate's hair eliciting bile in the back of his throat.

"We all know that isn't going to happen."

"There was never another victim, was there?" Kate mutters, her jaw squaring. "You just thought it'd be fun to lure us here, make a scene."

"It's all part of the game, Detective," the man shrugs, but his eyes never leave Castle, shifting between him and the gun. "Unfortunately, every game has an ending."

"So this is how you get your fifteen minutes?" Rick snaps. "Holding a cop hostage until backup arrives and makes the decision to live or die for you?"

"Holding her hostage?" he scoffs, the barrel of the gun digging into the skin near Beckett's eyebrow, smearing blood from the thin gash on her temple. It's just a flesh wound, just a tiny slit in her skin, but it has Castle's stomach rolling, the sight triggering too many memories he can never keep buried for long. "No, no, you'll likely be wearing Detective Beckett's blood on your coat soon."

"You-"

"Castle." The call of her voice is sharp, demanding, and his eyes fly to her face at the command of his name, lock on the dark pools of her eyes – scared, angry, but attempting to calm. "Take the shot."

"Hey, shut up," the man snarls, his grip on Beckett's shoulder turning his knuckles white. "You're not in charge here."

"Is that what this is about? Being in charge, having control?" Castle questions, drawing the attention away from Kate and earning an irritated flash of the other man's bloodshot eyes. "What is it? Were you bullied as a kid, something along those lines? So taking your revenge out on young women who can't even defend themselves gives you that power back? Tell me, can you even look them in the eye before you kill them or do you just ambush them from behind, take them down like a coward-"

"Shut up! There is _nothing_ cowardly about me," their killer snarls and Kate meets his gaze once more, encouragement gleaming in her eyes. _Keep him talking._

"Or is it just an attention craving thing?" Castle presses, inching forward just a fraction closer. "Were you neglected by your parents, never really a priority? Maybe you had a sister, college age, I'm guessing? Was she mom and dad's favorite?"

"You don't know shit!" the man counters, his voice rising to a shout. "You think I don't know you? That I haven't done my research? You're just a stupid writer who makes it all up as you go along."

"I don't know, I think I'm getting pretty warm here," Rick muses, tilting his head to one side, giving their killer a mock study from head to toe. "Killing at tourists attractions is probably the best way to shoot to the top of all the breaking news segments, isn't it? Hey, is that what we should call you, the Tourist? You don't even have a cool nickname, so I think it's pretty fitting-"

"I will shoot her right now, right in the skull, and you will watch her die, is that what you want?"

"Thought that was your plan all along?" Kate cuts in.

"Unless you were thinking of altering said plan?" Castle adds, arching his brow with feigned interest, but his heart is hammering with hope in his chest, bashing brutally against his ribs and puncturing his lungs.

"Your best choice would be to lower your weapon and allow Detective Beckett and I to make our exit," their killer, the Tourist, informs him, sparing a quick glance towards the nearest entry through the anxious crowd watching the three of them with bated breath.

Cold rivulets of sweat trickle down Castle's spine, the pound of his heart and the sting in his side battling for dominance while his brain kicks into overdrive, desperate for a way out of this that doesn't involve losing her to a serial killer.

"There's not a chance you're walking out of here alive."

"Yeah?" The tourist shrugs, taps the gun against Kate's ear. "Well, neither is she."

"You know what's going to happen if you don't put that gun down," Castle tries to reason, forcing his voice to remain steady even though the rest of him threatens to tremble and break. "Killing a cop? That's an entirely new level of bad news, believe me."

"Who says I'll be around to face the consequences?" the Tourist counters. "After I shoot her, the chaos of this crowd will intensify and I'll just be lost in the panic."

"Castle." Shit, her eyes are beginning to shine, acceptance spreading through her features. "You have to take the shot. Now."

"Better be one hell of a shot, writer," the Tourist taunts, angling his head directly behind Beckett's. "You don't want to do my job for me, do you?"

Castle's hands are trembling around the gun, attempting to remain positioned on his target, but the man is teasing him, swaying back and forth, keeping Kate positioned strategically in front of him. The Tourist's chances of escaping the scene are slim, but he isn't wrong. The crowd is already swelling with panic, a gunshot and a fallen officer will send them all into a frenzy. He could get away if Castle doesn't take the shot, but his aim has never been the best, and he cannot afford to miss.

"Kate, you couldn't even make this."

"That's okay, it's okay, Castle." Her eyes are pleading with him, shimmering with tears, splitting his heart in two, leaving jagged edges in between, but her lips curve into the tiniest of smiles, attempting to reassure him, but no way can he be assured that anything will be okay if Kate Beckett dies. Especially not when it's his fault.

"Take your shot, Castle," the Tourist coaxes, sensing his indecision, his weakness. "She's gonna die either way and it'll be your fault no matter what the outcome is. Just like that girl's death was all your fault-"

"Don't listen to him," Beckett snaps, lurching forward, testing the boundaries of the Tourist's grip. "Look at me, Rick. This is not your fault, will never be your fault, do you understand me?"

"Beckett, I won't-"

A gunshot echoes through the station and Castle screams, lunges forward to catch her body as it falls, but it isn't Kate who's taken a bullet.

Castle's gaze soars around the room, searching for the source of the shot and finding it at the upper level of the station, where Esposito is positioned with a sniper rifle, watching them with concern and the final vestiges of deadly concentration. The Tourist staggers to his knees, stumbling into Beckett's back while he collapses to the floor, a pool of crimson spilling from the hole in his chest. Kate remains frozen to the spot for a moment, the shock of the gunshot claiming her features, but the Tourist hits the floor, falls at her heels, and that seems to snap her out of it.

It does the same for him, strikes him with realization that his weapon is still raised and ready to fire. Castle lowers the gun, tucks it back into his waistband for now just as he notices the NYPD uniforms fighting their way through the crowd scrambling to get away from the freshly made crime scene. A paramedic is in the group as well, much to Rick's relief, but Beckett jerks forward before the team can make it to them, out of the dead man's reach and surging into Castle's.

It knocks him backwards, sends them both swaying precariously as she practically crashes into him, her arms locking around his neck and her racing heart sealed to his.

"You're okay," he chokes out the promise, wrapping his arms around her, holding her too tightly, he knows, but it isn't enough. Doesn't stop her from shaking, doesn't quell the short, sharp pants of her breath against his throat. "You're okay."

His eyes are burning, but he pulls back just enough to examine the scrape at her temple, hovering his fingers over the dried blood there, brushing the limp curls of her hair behind her ear and feeling his breath stutter in surprise when she presses her cheek to the cradle of his palm.

"I told her the truth," she gets out, her fingernails digging into his back, piercing through the fabric of his shirt. Castle's brow furrows in confusion at the sudden admission, his mind lost and scattered amidst the horror of the last fifteen minutes, but Kate lifts her head, her lips grazing his jaw. "I told Hendrix the truth. Castle, I love you too."


	9. Chapter 9

She loves him? _She loves him._ Too? Her shooting. She heard him. She loves him too. But she said she didn't remember. Did she get her memory back? Or did she lie to him to begin with?

"T-too?" Castle stutters. "How long have you remembered that I -"

Kate pulls back from him enough to catch his gaze, her fingers still laced at his back, but cautious of his injured side.

"Since the shooting. Mine, not yours."

Her voice is soft and he can hear the guilt laced in her tone. She's been fighting from telling him this entire time and right now he just wants to understand why.

"Beckett-"

"You two okay?" Ryan asks, jogging up to them.

"Fine," Kate mumbles, stepping out of the circle of Castle's arms. He instantly aches to have her back against him again, to hold her there long after he gets answers.

Ryan gestures to the cut on Kate's forehead. "You should get the EMT to check that out."

"It's fine," she brushes him off, cutting her gaze to the scene of chaos behind him. "Do we know if he was actually holding a victim here? He made it seem like he was just baiting us, but I don't want to leave some poor girl tied up in a closet somewhere."

"We'll have the unis do a sweep," Ryan says, still eyeing the drying blood on her forehead.

She bites her bottom lip, looking up at the spot where Esposito had been positioned as the sniper. Castle wonders if any of this is triggering her PTSD. He remembers how jumpy she had been during the sniper case they'd caught earlier in the year.

"Beckett," he tries again.

"It's finally over, Castle. It's all over."

Her words hold more weight than he thinks she realizes. The case may be over, but over with it may just be their partnership.

"Why didn't you wait for backup?" Ryan asks, as he watches Esposito make his way toward them.

"There wasn't time to wait," Kate tells him. "Our hour was almost up. I was not going to let him kill again."

"He could've killed _you_ ," Ryan points out.

"But he didn't. Castle held him off long enough for you guys to get here. It all worked out. Would I have preferred to take him in alive? Yes. But either way he won't be killing anyone anymore."

"Looks like we showed up just in time," Esposito says as he finally catches up to them. "Castle, were you really planning on trying to take that shot?"

He shakes his head. "Just a distraction technique."

"I know you would have taken the shot if it had come down to it," Kate says softly.

"How can you say that?" Castle asks in disbelief. "Did you really expect me to be responsible for your death?"

There's a quick shake of her head, before her gaze is focused back on the Tourist's body.

"I'll go call the M.E.'s office," Esposito says, excusing himself from the scene.

"Yeah and I'll um go help with the canvas for a possible kidnap victim," Ryan says, turning to leave right behind him.

Clearly, they think there's some private conversation that needs to be had here that they actually don't feel comfortable eavesdropping on. They'd be right. Castle finally gets another moment alone with her. Her fierce detective shell is gone again and she seems vulnerable standing in front of him in the corner of the station.

"I know we need to talk," she says softly. "And we will. But can we do it later at my place? Or yours even? Just not... here." She gestures to the crime scene.

He wants to talk now, doesn't know how much longer he can stand waiting for answers.

"Yeah, I can come over," Castle starts. "But can I ask you something quick? It's been months. Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"That's not really a quick answer," Kate says, giving him a sheepish grin.

"The abridged version then," he suggests, trying to match her smile.

Her gaze flits up to his as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "I wasn't ready. That's the short version."

"You weren't ready for what?"

She lets out a breath, not taking her eyes off of his. She almost looks like she's aching to touch him again as badly as he is her.

"Castle, please. I promise you we'll talk later. I have to deal with this right now," she says, looking over her shoulder.

He knows she has a job to do right now, that he needs to let her go do it, but he has to get one last point across.

"Kate, we might not be partners anymore after this."

The use of her first name halts her, gets her to refocus on him. Her smile is soft and there's a look in her eyes he can't quite place.

"But we love each other," she starts. "Not being partners doesn't have to mean the end of us."

He nods, wishing they had the time to get into all of this now. "You're right. It most certainly does not. Now go do your job so we can get out of here."

Another smile, this one tinged with more happiness than the last, and she heads over to join the boys over the body. Just a few more hours, that's all, and he'll finally learn everything he needs to. He may be impatient, but if that's what it takes, he can wait.

* * *

She can feel him hovering behind her as she stands at the murder board, pulling down pieces of their case.

"Lanie got a match on his fingerprints," Kate says, still facing the board. "His name was Clark Sanders. Got arrested for a couple drunk driving incidents. Worked as an IT guy for some insurance company."

Castle takes a step forward so they're standing side by side, staring at the half empty board together.

"How does one go from fixing computers to this?" He mutters. "Was I right about his profile? About him having a sister?"

She nods. "His older sister is his only living next of kin. We went to break the news to her and she didn't really seem all that surprised. Said the age difference really kept them from ever getting close." Kate glances over at him. "Maybe you should look into becoming a profiler if this partnership is over. You're pretty good at it."

He shrugs. "Nah. Don't think anyone else would tolerate my occasional supernatural theories."

"When did I ever say that _I_ tolerated them?"

Castle shoots her a look and she smirks.

"Well anyway," Castle starts. "At least this case is over now. And we managed to save Melissa and countless others now that he's dead. Doesn't quite make up for all the lives we lost, but it's a start. Even though it may have cost us our partnership."

She notices him looking around the precinct as she finishes dismantling the case from the board.

"She's in a meeting," Kate tells him, knowing he's looking for Gates. "My guess is we'll have our asses handed to us tomorrow."

Castle clucks his tongue. "Falling in love with your partner, what a cliché."

She smirks back. "We're a far cry from your standard partners. I mean, you're not actually employed here."

"Ooo a loophole. Think that means I'll get to stay?"

She touches his arm, the white board eraser still clutched in her other hand. "Want to get out of here?"

"Why, Detective, are you propositioning me?"

"Trust me, Castle. You'll know when I'm propositioning you."

He makes a little strangled noise as she moves back over to her desk to gather her things.

"You comin' Castle?"

* * *

He follows her into her apartment, notices how the change in scenery switches her flirtatious mood back into a nervous one. Whatever her reasoning was behind lying to him, she clearly feels guilty for it. Doesn't want to hurt him because _she loves him._

Wordlessly she sits down on the couch and looks up at him to follow suit. He does, taking the spot next to her.

"So," he starts slowly. "You heard me at the cemetery?"

Kate nods, her gaze dropping to her lap before refocusing back on him.

"I wasn't really completely with it when I woke up in the hospital. I wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much of it was a dream. And as I talked to my dad and with Josh, I just thought more and more that I might have imagined you saying those things. But something clicked when I saw you walk in with those flowers. And when you asked me how much I remembered, that's when I knew for sure that I hadn't imagined it. But I lied because I still wasn't sure."

"You still weren't sure if I had said it or about how you felt?"

"A little bit of both."

"And so did you come to a conclusion when you were out there at the cabin all summer?"

He doesn't want to get into another fight about her summer long absence; about her saying that she would call and then never calling. It'd become a tired fight, one they'd had too many times before without ever really getting into what she was doing out there at the cabin besides healing. And to be honest, he's sick of fighting. He just wants answers and then to move forward together. They're both ready for this, and after this case, they're more ready than ever.

"Yeah," she says, scrubbing a hand through her hair. "I did."

"Then why keep lying to me?"

She shakes her head. "We don't make sense on paper, Castle. You and I? We shouldn't work. And I've been too afraid of losing our friendship to test that theory. I like having you around at work; can't imagine doing this job without you anymore. But now -"

"Now you might have to," he cuts her off.

Tentatively, she reaches over to him to grab his hand. She laces their fingers together and rubs her thumb across his skin. He's enjoying all of this newfound little touching from her. It's a new side to her, another layer off of the Beckett onion peeled away.

"I'm sorry that I lied to you. And I know it's a lame excuse, but I just needed time. But if you're ready for whatever the next step is from here, I am too. Even if, by some miracle, they let us stay partners, I still want more with you. Because this case has made it abundantly clear just how much I do love you."

Castle squeezes her hand, shifting closer to her on the couch. "I wasn't going to let him kill you. I couldn't live with myself if that happened. I was never going to take that shot. Not unless...not unless he shot you first. Then I probably would have killed him. Because no one messes with the people that I love."

He reaches up with his other hand and tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'm in. Whatever this is, whatever we are, I'm in."

Kate holds his gaze and leans forward, closing the gap between them. She captures his lips with hers, her eyes fluttering closed as they meet. God, she tastes just like he remembers. Just like their first kiss in that alley when he drew that little moan out of her. _Oh_. Just like the one he drew out of her now.

Her hands skim up his arms to cup his face, holding him right where she wants him. Castle debates fighting her for dominance over of the kiss, but ultimately decides this is amazing as is. He finds it so incredibly hot the way she just takes what she wants. It has him wondering if she's like this in bed too. He always knew this woman was going to be the death of him.

She ends up breaking the kiss to catch her breath, her forehead still pressed against his. Her hands drift away from his cheeks to lace together behind his neck.

"I really am sorry it took me so long," Kate apologizes again.

"I know you are," Castle tells her, his hands pulling on her hips until she ends up straddling his lap. "But now we just have a lot of lost time to make up for, and I think I know exactly how we should start."

"Like this?" she asks, rolling her hips into his, laughing as it draws a groan from him.

"You were right earlier," he says, skimming his fingers up the column of her spine. "I can definitely tell when you're actually propositioning me."


	10. Chapter 10

She wakes ten minutes before her alarm is set to go off, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon and Castle peacefully asleep in bed next to her. She revels in the moment, the calm before the storm. Wishes that they could just stay here in this bed, in this room, and forget about everything else. She's not prepared to face the music and be told that they're too close to continue working as a team.

But she knows that they are. Knows that the bullet wound on his side she'd been extra careful with all night and the gash on her forehead are proof of that. That they won't hesitate to choose each other over the job again. And she knows that's not a good thing, knows that if he was actually NYPD, they would be reassigned to new partners in a heartbeat.

Kate looks over at him again, remembering everything about last night and the way that he - even if she doesn't have him as a partner anymore, she'll still have him like this. Right?

Her alarm goes off and she reaches over to silence it, listening as Castle starts to stir in bed beside her. He cracks one eye open to look for her and she can't help but smile at his true detest for the morning.

"Do you really go in this early every day?" he mumbles.

"If I don't get a call about a body sooner, I have to be in by 8:00. I've woken you up earlier than this before."

"Yeah and after those early calls I usually just roll over and go back to sleep, then come in later with coffee." Castle sighs and reaches out for her, guiding her up against his chest. "I don't suppose we could get away with that this morning?"

She skims her fingers over his bicep as she tucks her head into the crook of his neck. "You can stay, but I have to go."

"No, no, I need to come. Hear for myself what Hendrix has to say."

"Almost four years," Kate hums. "We had a good run."

"Hey now, no one has said that it's over yet."

She readjusts her head against him, her hair fanning out over her pillow. "Castle, think about what we both told Hendrix. You really think her outcome is going to be in our favor after that?"

"I think that I love being your partner. But if not being your partner means I get to wake up to this every morning after nights like last night, I'll be okay with it. More than okay actually."

"We're going to survive this, right?" she asks, pressing her nose against his neck.

"If we can survive everything else we've been through, we can most definitely survive this."

* * *

Hendrix sits in the conference room at the 12th precinct, reviewing her notes while she waits for all parties to arrive to announce her final decision. She's evaluated her fair share of partnerships in her day, but none quite as interesting as this pair. A homicide detective who willingly lets a mystery writer serve as her backup. A writer and his muse. She'd thought she'd seen it all.

She was wrong.

Their Captain walks in, hovering in the doorway for a moment. The woman is easier to read than she thinks she is. She acts indifferent towards the writer most of the time, maybe even detesting him on occasion. But Hendrix can tell she's developing a soft spot for the man. She'd be hard-pressed not to. Mr. Castle does posses a certain charm, even when one is trying to make him sweat.

"Dr. Hendrix, have you reached your decision?" Gates asks, stepping forward into the room.

"I have indeed," she replies, taking one more quick glance at her notes. "It is my professional opinion that Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle are too close."

Hendrix senses a change in the woman's demeanor, as though she struck a nerve where her soft spot for the writer is located.

"So you want me to split them up?" Gates asks. "Send Mr. Castle home?"

The psychiatrist taps her pen against her notepad. "Only if you want to lose your best team."

Her demeanor changes again, something akin to relieved confusion. "Come again?"

Hendrix gives her a stiff smile. "They are too close, yes. But I believe they are both well aware of the mistakes they made during this case and know what needs to be done to right them in the future. Your squad has an excellent case closure rate. And I'm not entirely sure what role the writer plays in all this, but he appears to be an important asset. I believe that taking him out now would have negative effects."

"So you think that they're closeness is actually beneficial?" Gates asks.

"I think it has its benefits, yes," Hendrix replies. "I also think this case served as a wakeup call for them and they know what needs to be done now. They're a good counterbalance, Captain Gates, one that appears to me to serve this squad very well."

* * *

Kate can't remember the last time she felt this nervous about anything. She knows how this is all slated to end, but there's still that glimmer of hope that things will work out. It's small, but it's there. She has to fight the urge to cling to Castle's hand for moral support as they step into Gates's office. They're trying to keep their personal relationship under wraps for now.

"Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle," Gates nods her head as they enter her office. "I just spoke with Dr. Hendrix regarding her evaluation of the two of you. She thinks that you're too close."

She knew it. This was it. No more shadow.

"Sir -" Kate starts.

"Let me finish," Gates interrupts. "She also believes that your closeness is beneficial to this team. And she thinks that breaking you up would be a mistake."

Castle's face lights up. "You mean, I get to stay?"

"Let this whole case and evaluation serve as your warning. But for now, Mr. Castle, you can stay."

Kate looks over at him, sharing the same wide grin as the one spread across his face. She's almost tempted to launch herself into his arms, but not here, not in front of Gates.

"Thank you," Castle says, extending his hand to shake hers. "I really appreciate it."

Gates shakes his hand. "Don't make me regret this decision."

"We won't, Sir," Castle tells her. "We'll continue to be beneficial to this team."

Kate almost wants to roll her eyes at his over eagerness. But she's just as relieved. All this worrying about the end of their partnership was for nothing. He gets to stay. Keep being hers.

They leave Gates's office and retreat to the break room, where she finally slips her arms around him in a hug. Castle breathes a sigh of relief into her hair while her fists tighten in his shirt.

"Guess this writer gets to keep fighting crime alongside his muse after all," he says with a small laugh.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," she says, placing a swift kiss to his cheek. "Now come on, I think we have a new case waiting for us."

"Better not be another serial killer," he mumbles, following her out into the bullpen.

"I don't know, the text I got from Esposito this morning said something about a dead Little Red Riding Hood."

"Oh! Someone's killing story book characters? Now this I have to see."

She smiles, watching him go to retrieve their coats from her desk. So yeah, maybe everything did work out after all.

* * *

 **A/Ns:**

 **Oliviet:** This was my first time ever collaborating with another author on a fic, and Raina couldn't have provided me with a better experience! She's the absolute greatest and continued to amaze and surprise me with chapters, even when I knew exactly what was coming. She's also super supportive and great to brainstorm with. We're basically the best team since Castle and Beckett. ;) And a special thanks to SVU for lending us Dr. Hendrix and the episode "Fault" for its inspiration. Thank you so much to all of our readers! Reading your reactions have continuously made my day throughout our sharing this with you. Thank you for sticking with us and giving our little collab a chance!

 **bravevulnerability:** After admiring Emily's talent for so long, having the opportunity to spin a story with her was a true privilege and honestly? Pretty magical. It's amazing to trust another writer without an ounce of hesitation, to know that the path of the story you're collaborating on is in good hands, and with Emily, I never had a single doubt. I cannot wait to work with you again and experience another fantastic journey with you, Em! In the meantime, I'm so happy our love (and anguish) where SVU is concerned came in great use. And to our readers, thank you. Every piece of feedback we've been lucky enough to receive has made the sharing of this story all the more fun.


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